02
15
10
Film and Television Rights: What to do with old love letters



On a bored and lonely snowy Sunday afternoon, I discovered a cache of my old love letters stuffed inside a Honeybaked Ham box in the bottom of my closet. I tossed them out on the bed and began sorting through them, arranging them by color and shape. As I wearied, I stretched out and rested in the pile of correspondence, inhaling, exhaling. The ancient paper had the feel of old linen, with a crisp quality I imagined as similar to the wrappings of a mummy. I considered fashioning a full bodysuit out of these old heartwrenching missives, but as I stitched and sewed and shaped the pattern into a vestment, a togo-like shift emerged. It was passable, although I've no skills with needle and thread.

I wore the letter-suit around the house for the afternoon, lingering by the window, watching the giant flakes of snow fall, muffling the city. About 6pm, I ran a warm bath, and stood in the middle of the tub, the water up to my calves. Then I lit my letter-dress on fire with a bright yellow disposable lighter. The flames licked up my chest, devouring the hair around my torso, and just before I fell into the water, reflected off the bathroom tiles, I saw a shadowy animated figure with a flame necklace, dozens of winged creatures intertwined with him, dancing about, then breaking free, flying away.







«« (back) (forward) »»
father dawn




›comments[3]
›all comments

›post #317
›bio: john ball
›perma-link
›2/15/2010
›22:38

›archives
›first post
›that week




February Smackdown!

Category List
Angels
April - National Poetry Month 2005
April - National Poetry Month 2007
April - National Poetry Month 2008
April - National Poetry Month 2009
Blather
Blather
Correspondence
Demons
February Smackdown!
Here, I'm trying to be Funny
My personal favorites
Novel Excerpts
Random Memoir Fragment



Previous Posts
Albums. Landlines. Square television.
I don't love anything, not even Christmas
My favorite place in the world
How do you Plea?
Rashy
Eeyore